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harringtown · 2 years

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keep my hand in yours

a/n: im so sorry for the wait anon, pls forgive me and accept some super fluffy fluff in apology <3

requested by anonymous

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve & reader are cuddlin’ on the couch and feelings are revealed (aka Steve gets his hair played with w a dash of friends to lovers)

word count: 1.8k

Steve doesn’t have a clue what’s happening on the tv screen.

He was the one who picked this movie, and he was pretty excited to see it, actually, but then, you settled in on the couch closer to him than you have in five years of friendship, close enough that your knee pressed into Steve’s thigh.

And it was all over.

An hour later, and any hopes of following the plot are dead in the dirt.

Because thirty minutes ago, you lifted your arm and laid it over the back of the couch and started drumming your fingers. Because ten minutes ago, those same fingers grazed the top of his spine and slid up the nape of his neck, and they haven’t left.

An explosion brightens the screen.

Steve shifts, leans back, into your side.

Another flash of lights and loud crashing sounds, and your hand, the one that isn’t in Steve’s hair, drops onto his waist.

A gunshot and a flame on the screen, and he settles against you.

It’s almost like you’re both waiting for cover to make a move. Which is a stupid thought, because Steve knows you don’t feel for him what he feels for you, and that ‘cover’ is an alien ship being blown up on a television. But still. You don’t pull away. And neither does he.

Steve never thought he’d like something like this. Being held by a girl. In his dreams, and there are a lot of them, it’s always him wrapping his arms around you, always him pulling you into his chest.

But this, your fingers working slowly through his curls, your heartbeat against his back, is a tenderness he’s never seen. Surely not anything he deserves.

Your fingers scrape lightly across his scalp, and Steve’s eyes fall shut. Every inch of him feels like a live wire, but at the same time, he’s too tired to move. Or, maybe not tired. Content, maybe. Because he doesn’t want to sleep. He just wants to stay.

Warmth weaves around and into his limbs, and goosebumps raise along his skin every time your knuckles brush the backs of his ears, or the curve of his jaw. He’s so drunk on the touch, it takes a while to realize you’ve already worked all the tangles out of his hair. But your fingers, that gentle, careful touch, remains.

He almost doesn’t know what to do with it. Never before has someone treated him like a precious thing. Like something to be taken care of or protected.

And he never thought he wanted that. Needed that. Because he always does the protecting. He’s a flight attendant’s worst nightmare, because as far as he’s concerned, his own oxygen mask doesn’t exist until everyone else is wearing their own.

But here you are. And here he is. And it’s really, really nice. There’s definitely a more accurate word for the feeling, but he can barely form coherent thoughts as it is.

For a long time, you both stay that way, your hand in his hair and your heartbeat against his spine.

“Can I ask you something?” You murmur sometime later, and your hand hesitates in his hair, and God, he’d do anything you asked if you’d just keep touching him.

“Mhmm,” he hums, not opening his eyes.

You’re quiet for a moment. Your fingers slide down the side of his scalp in a slow line, and he has to suppress a shiver.

“Rebecca Robinson asked you out today,” you say. Steve opens one of his eyes to peer over at you, trying not to grimace.

“You heard that?”

“I was ten feet away, Steve. Of course I heard it.”

“Was there a question in there somewhere?”

More silence.

He opens his other eye, turns his head and shifts up so he can meet your gaze.

“If you heard her ask me out, you heard me tell her no,” he says. He’s defending himself, and he’s not even sure why. He’s allowed to go out with whoever he wants. And yeah, it just so happens that the person he wants to go out with—you—doesn't feel the same, but whatever.

“Exactly,” you say. Still, you don’t pull away from him, and still, he can’t bring himself to pull away from you. This, if it’s an argument or a discussion or the ramblings of two people who should just go to sleep, feels like it’s about something other than Rebecca Robinson.

“I don’t get it.”

You sigh. Your gaze darts away, lingers on the TV.

“You told me that you had a huge crush on her. All of middle school, and the first year of high school.” The unspoken until Nancy isn’t lost on Steve. And once again, he feels the need to defend himself. Even though it’s been years, and she’s out of the picture, and again, you don’t feel the same.

“Yeah, still not following.”

“Why did you say no?”

“To Rebecca?”

“Yes, to Rebecca.”

“Oh.” Steve swallows. Now, he does shift backwards. He instantly misses the presence of your hand on his hip. “Oh.”

Your hand falls to your lap like it, too, isn’t sure what to do without his skin to rest on.

“Oh what?” you ask.

He chews on one side of his cheek for a beat before he says, “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

Steve could still be delirious with sleep, but he swears something like fear flashes in your eyes, just for a second.

Then it’s gone, and you shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Being subtle isn’t exactly one of my strengths,” he says. Lifts his brows. “The reason it’d never work out with Rebecca is the same reason it didn’t work out with all those other girls.” He crinkles his nose. “And I don’t mean, like, there was anything wrong with them. There’s not. They were great and all, but they weren’t—” He stops, his tongue clamping his words off like it, too, is afraid of what happens when the truth hits the air.

“They weren’t what, Steve?” You ask, voice low, like you have the same fear.

Steve presses his lips together. He lifts a tentative hand to your cheek, running his thumb up your cheekbone before pulling his hand back.

“They weren’t you,” he says.

He’s pretty sure he’s just ruined one of the few good things he has, but honestly, holding it all in felt like trying to cage a tsunami—aka, fucking impossible. At least that pit in his stomach is gone. It’s been replaced by a new one—a sharp, hot fear—but something is better than all the nothing, he decides.

The longest ten seconds of his life pass as you just stare at him, like you’ve never seen him before.

It’s like you decide something, too, as you reach out to thread your fingers through his hair, a hand on each side, curling into his curls and giving them a light tug, drawing him closer. Close enough that he can smell your lemon shampoo and he can see the tiny flecks in your iris, and he wants to say something stupid, do something stupid. Something like kiss you.

Then, like you’re reading his mind, you say, “Kiss me.”

He can’t help but wonder if you’re joking.

“What?” he asks; the something stupid.

But you just smile, and say, again, “Kiss me.”

So, he does. He closes the distance between you carefully, brushes his lips against yours. He stills, waits for you to say “haha, just kidding!” or realize what a huge mistake you’ve made.

You don’t, though. You just kiss him back, lips coaxing his own open. Your fingers, tangled in his hair, travel down the sides of his neck, across his collarbones, down his chest and back up. It’s like you’re trying to memorize him as urgently as he is you.

You both seem to realize at the same moment that you’re not running out of time—that there is a beginning in this kiss—and within a heartbeat, isn’t frantic anymore, but firm, steady, secure. You smile against his lips, and Steve smiles too, and for a little while, he can’t tell where his breaths end and yours begin, and he doesn’t care.

It occurs to him that he’s been waiting for this, for you, for a long time. Maybe a lifetime.

His hands shift down from your cheeks to your shoulders, skimming down your arms. You shiver, pressing closer, close enough that the rest of the world fades into nothingness.

When Steve finally pulls away—which is only because if he doesn’t take a full breath, he will pass out—he doesn’t go far, like he’s worried you’ll disappear if he isn’t touching you. You must feel the same, because you tip your forehead against his, a light smile on your face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Steve hums. “So long.”

You shift back slightly frown. “You never told me.”

He gives you a half smile and says, “I was trying not to scare you away.”

“Scare me away?” You huff. Take his cheeks in your hands and bend forward, shaking your head. “Not possible.”

Steve cocks a brow. “Yeah, you say that now, but—”

“Wrong,” you say. “I know you. I’ve been your friend for years. I’ve seen the skeletons in your closet, Harrington. Hell, I’ve shaken their hands. And I’m still here. I still love you.” Your eyes go wide, and you bring a hand to your mouth for a long second.

Steve’s brows arch, and he swears an entire flock of butterflies breaks loose in his chest.

“Shit,” you say. “Can we just forget I said that, and—”

“Oh, not a chance,” Steve says. You try to pull away from him, but he loops his arms around you, pulls you half into his lap. You give a half-hearted protest, but end up twisted in his lap, arms winding around his neck. “We’re so not forgetting that.”

You scrunch your nose. “See, now I’m going to be the one scaring you away.”

Steve smiles. Leans forward to bump the tip of your nose with his.

“Say it again.”

You purse your lips.

“Steve—”

He kisses you again. This time, he lingers, lets his lips part, and only pulls away when you sink into him.

“Say it again,” he murmurs.

A smile fights past your defenses, and you say, “I love you.” You incline your head. “Happy now?”

“Very happy, actually, yeah,” Steve says, and he knows he’s grinning like an idiot, but he no longer cares. He just kisses you again. And one more time after that. Then, he says, “I love you, too, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Steve says. And this time, it’s you who kisses him.

By the time either of you bothers to check, the movie is long over, the credits at their end. But neither of you cares.

Call it making up for lost time.

taglist: @milkiane @spideyboipete @robiin-buckley @robinbuckleyssgf @la-fille-en-aiguilles @sunlitide @cityofidek @isshecrazyorissheclever @peanutbutter-y-jams @hellfire1986baby @comfortcharactercraze

#brooke writes fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington au #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #x reader

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

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crybaby

this is the most unhinged thing i’ve written and it’s @thorniest-rose’s fault bc of this post (no this is not going on ao3 bc some of my irls know ab my ao3)

featuring: virgin!eddie; also bottom!eddie; eddie w an oral fixation; lots of crying bc eddie is pathetic (affectionate); unhinged horniness and then extremely soft tenderness

cw: brief mention of piss bc eddie is depraved; mention of drugs; f slur used once; obviously very nsfw minors go away you are not welcome here

~~~

eddie isn’t good at much, but the things he’s good at, he’s really good at. these things include things other people know about him. writing stories, drawing creatures, making up plot twists and snags and tangles during campaigns, playing complex riffs on his guitar, finding his place easily on stage in front of people. (not many people, but still. people.)

but he’s also good at things that nobody knows about, things that nobody should or will ever know about. specifically, he’s good at getting himself off.

he’s experienced, simply put. he knows his body. he knows what feels good, and what doesn’t, and he knows what he likes. he’s gotten practice. he’s also gotten… creative.

he’s been home alone often enough that he’s gotten to try things. things he’s read about in magazines, seen pictures of, things that he’s just randomly thought of and gotten curious about.

he likes being breathless, so he curiously wraps his fingers around his own neck and squeezes until he’s a little lightheaded and gasping. (he uses a belt to do it one day, and he’s reminded of the bite of the leather on his neck every time he wears the belt after that. so he leaves it in his closet for the times he’s feeling particularly depraved, because he can’t wear it out anymore.) he comes immediately when his hair gets caught on his rings and he accidentally pulls too hard, so that becomes a thing afterwards.

he shoves his face into his pillow to muffle his moans, and when he bites down on it he realises he likes having it in his mouth. (he’s always liked having things in his mouth, pencils and his hair and gum and his necklaces, so he supposes this makes sense.) so he starts biting his pillows and then the ends of his blankets and then his underwear, and then he sucks on his fingers and bites his arms when he tosses them over his face.

some nights it’s harder to come than others, and he tries everything. sticking a pillow between his legs and riding it, using too much lube to get four fingers inside himself as he groans into his mattress, pushing his knuckles against his taint and pressing a hand against his belly, fucking himself with the handle of his hairbrush until he saves enough money to get an actual toy.

it’s also fun sometimes when he’s high, his head full of clouds, every sensation somehow simultaneously heightened and muffled. (on one particularly desperate night, he gets too high and accidentally pisses himself as he’s coming, and if that awakens something inside him as he comes back down… well, that’s his business.)

he’s aware of how it would look if someone were to take a peek into his bedside table drawer and found the bottle of lube (and the empty one he just hasn’t gotten around to throwing away) next to the pills and weed. but nobody looks at his stuff.

sometimes he does it without even the intention of really getting off. it just feels nice. gives his brain something to focus on while he does other things, fondling his dick over his pants while he reads or does homework, putting a toy inside himself while he draws or works on a campaign.

there are nights that he sets aside just to get off. just to sit in bed with lube and a box of toys (some of which are just innocuous things, like the belt and the hairbrush, that are only used for this), to spend hours taking himself apart. (yes, hours. the only time he’s ever patient is when he stops himself just before tipping over the edge.) he always gets a little delirious after long nights, giggling breathlessly to himself as his come and sweat dries tacky on his skin, as he untangles his fingers and rings from his own hair.

he doesn’t have any experience with other people, to his own disappointment. he’s curious about if it would feel better for another man to pull his hair, if they would pull it harder, sharper, if their hands would feel better around his throat, if their dicks would feel better in his ass than Eddie’s fingers.

he manages by himself, though. (manages is a light term. he’s killing it, really.) a few times a week, when he gets to get away from the rest of the world for a while. it’s not gross, he doesn’t think. he’s a healthy amount of horny, in his own opinion.

until steve harrington.

steve turns his world upside down (pun intended), from the moment eddie pins him against the wall out of fear and steve makes those little gasping noises, and then it gets worse when he sees steve bite a fucking demon bat and rip it apart before spitting its blood onto the ground like it was nothing, all covered in sweat and blood and lake water. eddie has to focus on where exactly he is and the fact that the world might be ending to distract his dick.

(nancy notices him adjust his pants, and his face burns, but she just barks out a laugh that she disguises as a cough, thankfully.)

he’s distracted until everything is over, luckily, as it would be difficult to sneak off long enough to rub one out. (to king steve, of all people. jesus.)

when he’s released from the hospital, he goes home (home now meaning the apartment the government gave wayne in return for the trailer.), and he’s hard before the shower water is even warm. and steve is in his head. covered in sweat and blood, panting and grinning and hovering over eddie. eddie ends up pressing his face to the wall, his breathes and soft whines echoing off the tile, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s moaning steve’s name, but it doesn’t really matter. no one’s here to hear it.

and steve keeps doing this thing. which really isn't a thing at all. he's just... existing. but it's summertime, and he keeps wearing these shirts with cut-off sleeves, and these shorts that cling to his ass like saran wrap, and he keeps pushing his hair back in this way that's so casual it's clear he isn't aware that he looks like a fucking model. (his hair is also longer now than it was when they met. long enough that he sometimes borrows hair ties from the girls to keep it out of his face while he's cooking (which is a whole other story) and eddie has to physically turn away to tear his eyes away from his neck.)

obviously he doesn’t tell anyone that he’s hot for steve. because it doesn’t matter. steve’s hot. that’s that.

but the problem is that he’s falling for steve. beyond the way his neck looks when he looks up at the ceiling and the way his muscles shift when he lifts something heavy, eddie is falling for the rest of him. his kindness, his bravery, the way he acts with the kids and robin and nancy, the quips and bitchy faces he makes when he’s annoyed. the way he traces the scars around his neck absentmindedly. (the scars that match eddie’s.) and eddie doesn’t just want to lick his chest and feel his fingers in his hair anymore, but he also wants to just… hold his hand. kiss him good morning. borrow his sweaters to sleep in and let their hair tangle in a hairbrush.

which is a problem because they’re actual friends now, apart from the all the trauma bonding. they bond over other things. over dustin and the kids, over teasing robin and teasing each other, over hawkins. and most of the time, eddie forgets he’s hot for him until he’s horny, and then steve is all he can think about.

he discovers that steve is hot when he smokes. they’re in steve’s living room with robin and nancy and jonathan and argyle, passing a bong around, and the way steve’s eyes shine, framed by his dark princess eyelashes, and the way he blows smoke at the ceiling and grins lazily make eddie feel like his skin is twisting. so he excuses himself to the upstairs bathroom for a few minutes. he bites the hand towel hanging by the sink to keep himself quiet. (nancy gives him a knowing look and smile when he comes back and he just flips her off. she giggles, but no one questions it because they’re all high.)

it’s still not really a problem. he’s good at pretending steve doesn’t make him feel lightheaded just by looking at him.

steve might be eddie’s best friend. which is nice. but also…

steve is a tactile person. eddie notices it at the very beginning of their friendship, watching how steve drapes himself over robin as she’s watching movies or talking with someone, how steve tugs dustin closer just to hold the back of his neck or his shoulder, how he holds eleven’s hand whenever she reaches for his. and steve is the same with him, leaning against him on the sofa, setting his legs over eddie’s lap. he doesn’t question it when eddie starts to headbutt him, rubbing his head and face against steve’s shoulder or arm or back just because. he just smiles or laughs quietly when it’s particularly aggressive, which just makes eddie’s heart grow warmer.

steve gives eddie a key to his house when his parents move out. i know you have a place with wayne, but it’s just… i want you to know that you, like… have somewhere to go. if you need it. so eddie gets a key made for his apartment gives it to steve two weeks later. you too. steve tries to hide his watery eyes, but eddie doesn’t let him. he just pulls him into a hug.

it doesn’t occur to him that it wasn’t entirely a great idea until he’s facedown in bed, crying and fucking himself with a toy, and the front door opens.

“eddie?”

eddie can’t even move, his vision blurred as his door opens and steve appears and freezes.

“oh.”

eddie says steve’s name, tears sliding across his skin and soaking into his sheets as he continues to fuck himself, hanging just on the precipice of enough, his body flushed with desperation and embarrassment.

steve must see it all, the desperation and embarrassment and all the tears, because he falters, his voice soft when he asks, “are you okay?”

“i can’t come,” eddie whines, a small sob escaping him, his hand slowing, and he hides his face in the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut, because holy fuck, steve is seeing this. seeing eddie like this, bare and more naked than he’s ever been because someone’s eyes are on him now. (he kind of likes it. feeling steve’s eyes trail over his skin, watching the toy. he feels seen.)

“do you want some help?” steve asks softly, his voice almost disappearing before it reaches eddie’s ears. eddie sobs again, nodding into the bed.

“please.”

it’s quiet for a moment before he feels the mattress shift and steve’s fingers run through his hair. eddie whimpers, letting out a quiet yes.

“look at me,” steve says lightly, quietly, gently. eddie turns his head, blinking up at him, breathing hard. steve caresses his head, hesitating. “i just got off work,” he says slowly, like he knows exactly how eddie’s brain is lagging. “and i’ve been handling money and stuff all day, so i’m gonna go wash my hands. and i’ll be right back. okay?”

“okay,” eddie says weakly.

“okay,” steve repeats softly with a smile. his hand disappears from eddie’s hair, and eddie whines as steve leaves to the bathroom down the hall. he keeps fucking himself as he listens to steve’s footsteps down the hall, to the bathroom sink running, to his bedroom door shut. his eyes flutter open when the mattress shifts again.

steve is laying next to him, his eyes soft, trained on eddie’s face even though eddie’s ass is in the air.

“what do you need?” steve whispers. eddie’s heart clenches. his hand stops again, holding the toy in place, and his brows furrow as his eyes water again.

“i need it to be real,” he says weakly without thinking.

“…what do you mean?”

eddie is still crying, and steve wipes a tear from the bridge of his nose carefully.

“need you to mean it, stevie,” eddie breathes. steve blinks at him, touching his cheek.

and then steve is moving closer, nudging their noses together, and eddie’s eyes close as their lips brush against each other.

“i mean it, eddie,” steve murmurs. and then he’s kissing him.

eddie gasps, releasing the toy and reaching for steve’s head, clutching at him, more desperate than he’s ever been. when they part, eddie’s skin is wet with tears and spit and eddie’s fingers have gotten lube in steve’s hair.

“what do you need?” steve asks again, his fingers brushing over eddie’s cheek.

“fuck me,” eddie breathes.

“…you sure?”

“please, steve,” eddie cries quietly. “i need it, i need you so bad.”

“okay,” steve whispers, kissing him again. “like this?”

“mm.”

steve shifts, moving to kneel behind eddie, and eddie is trembling with anticipation as he listens to steve undress, flushing with heat as he feels steve’s hand slide over his ass.

“you know you’re beautiful?” steve says softly, touching him. he presses against the toy for a moment, pushing it into eddie harder, making eddie whine, before he slowly, carefully pulls it out. “fuck.”

“stevie,” eddie whines, arching his back. one of steve’s hands squeezes, and his other traces eddie's hole lightly, his fingertip just pressing inside for a moment.

“you have condoms?”

eddie groans, gesturing with a flop of his arm to his bedside table, and steve laughs softly, getting up.

steve rubs his skin when he’s back, running his hands over eddie’s ass and thighs and the small of his back, his hands soft and warm and gentle on eddie’s scars before they pull away and eddie hears the clicking of the cap of the bottle of lube.

“ready?” steve whispers.

“yes.”

it’s better than the hairbrush. better than the toys. eddie groans, his voice muffled by the mattress, and steve lets out a soft shit.

“how do you want it?” steve asks roughly after pausing for eddie to adjust.

“hard. please. steve.”

“i got you, baby.”

baby. fuck. eddie’s never been called baby before. he’s never been called anything but his name, but freak and fag. he’s never been called anything sweet.

he starts crying again as steve fucks him, leaning over him, his hands on either side of eddie’s body.

“you feel good?” steve asks when he notices eddie crying.

“yes,” eddie chokes, delirious, gripping the sheets so tightly they might rip. “yes, so good, stevie. love your fucking dick.”

steve laughs, his breath on eddie’s shoulder before one of his hands slides over eddie’s back.

“just my dick?”

eddie giggles like he’s high, his back arching.

“love all of you,” he says.

“love all of you too, eddie.”

it doesn’t feel like the world’s tipped upside down like it should have. it feels like eddie already knew.

eddie whines, reaching back and grabbing steve’s hip, feeling it move back and forth, feeling his muscles shift under his skin.

“talk to me, stevie,” he says desperately, too loud.

steve leans down closer, brushing his lips over eddie’s shoulder.

“you wanna hear me?”

“mm.”

“i’m so obsessed with you,” steve says softly into eddie’s ear, breathing hard. eddie tilts his head to listen. “i’ve gotten off to… to the thought of you so many times.”

“really?” eddie says weakly.

“fuck. yeah.”

eddie whimpers, biting his lip so hard it might start bleeding.

“me too,” he says, because he doesn’t know how to articulate anything he’s thinking. steve seems to understand him.

“shit.” steve presses a rough kiss to eddie’s shoulder. “you’re so amazing, eddie. fucking everything about you. so fucking perfect. so pretty. that fucking hair. your lips.”

eddie’s head is filled with clouds. he’s crying, spit dripping from his mouth as it hangs open.

“steve,” he chokes. “gimme your hand.”

steve’s hand starts to slide down, under his hips, but eddie stops him with a quiet no, and he releases his hip, holding his hand up for steve to take it. their fingers lace tightly for a moment before eddie pulls steve’s hand to his mouth, sliding his tongue across his fingers.

“jesus,” steve murmurs, letting go of eddie’s hand and sliding two fingers into eddie’s mouth. eddie groans, holding steve’s wrist tightly. “you’re so perfect.”

eddie whimpers, sucking on his fingers and melting onto the mattress as it creaks with every thrust of steve’s hips.

“you’re so much better than a dildo,” eddie mumbles around his fingers, and steve laughs, kissing the back of his shoulder.

“am i your first time?” he asks after a second, like he’s just realised. eddie hums affirmatively, sucking on his fingers harder, smiling dopily when steve pushes them farther into his mouth, spreading them over his tongue. “god, you’re a fuckin’ natural, aren’t you?”

eddie giggles, drooling.

“can i go harder?” steve asks.

“yes. please.”

steve pulls his hand away from eddie’s mouth, and eddie whines softly, replacing his fingers with his own as steve sits ups straight, gripping eddie’s hips tightly before he slams into him. a short scream escapes eddie before he reaches to grab a pillow, pulling it close and burying his face in it.

“alright?” steve checks, breathless.

eddie moans into the pillow, pushing his ass back out toward him.

“words, eddie,” steve says, sliding a hand over his ass, and eddie lifts his head enough for steve to hear him.

“yes.”

“okay.”

eddie can hear steve’s smile in his voice.

eddie groans into the pillow as steve fucks him, each thrust hard enough that eddie’s whole body rocks forward, and he mumbles into the pillow even though steve can’t hear him.

“so fucking good, stevie, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

he’s getting closer. his moans grow louder, higher and higher, until steve’s hands tighten on his hips, gripping him like they’ll fall apart at the seams if he lets go. (the seams being the matching scars that cover their bodies.)

“you gonna come for me, honey?” steve asks breathlessly, sliding a hand up eddie’s spine. eddie groans and turns his head so steve can hear him.

“can i?”

“…come.”

eddie comes.

he’s always noisy when he comes, and he’s used to holding a pillow to his face to muffle it, but today is different. he’s groaning, low in his throat, and then he’s sobbing, his shoulders shaking as he cries. steve moans as he comes soon after, a hand running comfortingly down eddie’s back.

“fuck, eddie,” he pants. “you okay?”

eddie whines, trembling, and steve pulls out carefully, moving to lay next to eddie, pulling him into his arms. eddie’s legs give out under him and he lets steve pull him close, taking a gasping breath.

“slow,” steve instructs gently. “i got you.”

eddie inhales slowly, shakily, pressing his face into steve’s neck, focussing on the feeling of steve’s chest hair on eddie’s skin. his hands find steve’s waist, sliding to his back before they roll slightly so his arms can wrap around him.

“you okay?” steve asks softly after a few moments.

“‘m so okay, steve,” eddie murmurs. steve’s fingers run over his skin. “i’ve never come that hard. fuck.”

steve laughs softly, tilting his head to kiss the top of his head.

“got worried,” he says softly.

“don’t worry,” eddie says. he closes his eyes. “i’m just a crybaby.”

“sweet boy,” steve murmurs into his hair.

they’re quiet for a moment before steve carefully lets go of him, shifting to take off the condom and tie it off, rolling over to toss it to the trash can next to eddie’s desk.

“touch me,” eddie says before steve’s even rolled back over, and steve listens, pulling him close, tugging at him until he’s on top of steve, their legs tangled.

he closes his eyes as steve traces lines over his back, his fingertips dancing over eddie’s scars gently.

“did you mean it?” eddie asks softly after a minute. steve’s hands pause for a second before they continue.

“mean what?”

“that you… that you love me.”

“yes,” steve says without hesitating, without thinking.

“really?” eddie asks weakly.

“yes,” steve whispers again. “i love you. like… a lot.”

“fuck.”

“are you crying again?”

“…no,” eddie lies, but his voice cracks, and he feels steve’s chest move as he laughs softly, reaching to run his hand through eddie’s curls.

“crybaby,” he says fondly, kissing his head again. eddie whines, nuzzling into his neck. “i got you.”

eddie takes a shaky breath when he stops crying, sighing softly.

“next time,” steve says softly, “i wanna do this at my place.”

“why?” eddie asks, smiling.

“wanna make you as loud as possible.”

eddie snorts.

“yeah?”

“mm. wanna hear you scream without a pillow in your face.”

“okay,” eddie says softly. he could fall asleep here, his chest pressed to steve’s. their heart pressed together, beating in tandem with nothing but skin between them, feeling steve’s fingers sliding over his skin like they can’t decide where to stop. “you really like me?” he asks after a moment.

steve is quiet, still touching him.

“i came over today,” he starts slowly, voice soft. “because i had a bad day.”

eddie sits up, his forearms crossed over steve’s chest as he looks down at him, frowning a little bit. steve looks up at him fondly and tucks his hair behind his ear. his cheeks are flushed and rosy, his hair tousled, his eyes half-shut.

“work was rough,” he explains without eddie having to ask. “had a headache and some customers were rude and i just…” he shrugs weakly, nonchalantly. “couldn’t wait to get—“

he cuts himself off and swallows, his eyes flicking back and forth between eddie’s almost nervously.

“get what?” eddie prompts softly.

“…home.”

eddie blinks, his brain whirling, because steve is at eddie’s apartment right now, not his own house, and it all clicks. steve came to eddie’s after he had a hard day. steve called eddie’s name not three seconds after shutting the front door.

“oh.”

steve smiles weakly at him. eddie leans down and kisses him. he touches his cheek as steve’s lips part, caressing him. his skin is soft. he shivers when steve’s tongue slides over his lip, and he smiles when steve sucks on it softly.

“jesus,” he breathes when they part.

“what?” steve whispers.

“so good.”

“yeah?”

“mm.”

he tucks his face back into steve’s neck, sighing and relaxing, melting against steve, who reaches for the blanket and manages to drape it over their bare bodies. steve mumbles something about changing the sheets tomorrow.

“stevie?” eddie says after a few moments, feeling steve’s breaths become slow and sleepy.

“mhmm?”

“next time will you choke me?”

steve snorts, his arms tightening around eddie as eddie smiles.

“if you want me to. yeah.”

“‘s nice.”

“will you show me how?” steve asks. his voice is slurring a little bit, heavy with sleepiness. “‘ve never choked anyone. don’t wanna hurt you.”

“i’ll show you.”

“show me everything you like.”

“…you sure?”

steve scoffs.

“yes. want everything you’ll let me have.”

“…oh.”

“go to sleep, honey,” steve murmurs. eddie nuzzles into his neck and bites him. steve just hums and presses a hand to the small of his back. “love you.”

“love you too, stevie.”

#this turned out so much longer than i meant it to be #me: im gonna go to bed early to fix my sleep schedule <3 #me at five am: writing this #anyway thank you brooke for awakening this in me i guess #never thought this is what id be writing when i started writing fanfic a few years ago #but here we are #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie smut #nsft

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Eddie Munson is an ass man

Masterlist

Eddie Munson is an ass man

Ok so I am convinced this guy is an ass man, not just in the sense he likes looking at it/grabbing it

Anal is eddies favourite kind of sex, if it’s not something you’re into its not a deal breaker but if you’re up for it he'll go as far with it as you let him

He enjoys eating your ass as much as fucking it, he loves having you sit on his face

You’d think his favourite position is doggy because of his love of all things ass but he actually doesn’t like to have sex in any position he cant see your face

He’s decided the best of both words is doggy in front of his mirror

If you're into or willing to try denial Eddie is happy to kind of ignore your pussy because your ass is just so hot

Part of the reason he enjoys anal is he can come in you without worrying and keep it there

Even when he fucks your pussy he finishes in your ass

Eddie likes making you cum though, he enjoys knowing you feel good so I can see him training you to cum from anal

Using a vibe and his fingers to get you off while he's inside you, so you associate him fucking your ass with intense orgasms

Specifically picking angles that still hit your g-spot

He likes to convince you to wear skirts without underwear whenever he can as well, gives him better access to your ass

And even if you’re wearing something with more coverage he is grabbing your ass any chance he gets

He initially convinces you to start wearing a plug in public as a trade off, he wont grab your ass in public whenever you have the plug in

That doesn’t hold up very long but by then you’re kind of used to the plug and enjoy wearing It for him

He goes out of his way to get you a black and red one, something cute to help convince you initially

He ends up with a reasonably big collection of plugs for you eventually, he matches them to your outfits

Eddie likes the idea of keeping you plugged so he can fuck you whenever he feels like it

His dick is thick enough that prepping you properly means you gape a little when the plug is taken out

Eddie uses the plug to his full advantage

Being a brat while you and Eddie are out? his hand is reaching up your skirt to fuck you with the plug and remind you who you belong to

Someone on the basketball team flirts with you? Eddie gets possessive and has you cheer with his cum plugged in your ass the next day

Eddie’s a bit of a sadist as well, he likes to watch you panic and squirm a little

So occasionally when you’re out shopping at the mall he'll pull the plug out knowing that you're too gaped to stop the cum dripping down your legs

He likes watching the way you react when you feel it dripping out despite your best efforts

He’s nice enough to offer the plug back once it’s just becoming visible past the line of your skirt, he doesn’t want to embarrass his girl too much

He will make you earn the plug back though, generally he gives you a few options to pick between

eating the cum that's dripped onto your legs so that you’re nice and clean for the plug to go back in

Letting him fuck you in a secluded bathroom so you're nice and full again

Spanks so your ass is all pretty and red to match the gem on the plug

Eddie loves spanking with the plug in, watching you clench around it and moan

And it turns your ass suck pretty colours too, sometimes he'll leave hickeys as well so there's some really pretty bruises

He’s got a polaroid of it in his wallet

I feel like eventually he convinces you to get a little tattoo on your ass so there’s a more permanent mark

Little cursive lines that say something along the lines of eddies little anal whore

He teases you about it all the time once you have it especially if you’re bratty

Be bends your head back so you can see it in the mirror when you fuck

Sometimes if you've been a real brat I can see him upping the plug size to something barely reasonable

It stings a little but he doesn’t do anything about it unless you safe word

Because naughty girls need reminders that they are toys for his entertainment so if he wants to see you stretched out and whiny then that's what happens

If you’re really willing to let Eddie push your limits, I can see him inviting Steve to try double anal penetration

He’s thinner so its not a terrible stretch but he's a bit longer

They go a few rounds so by the time eddies putting the plug back in its barely containing the cum that wants to drip out of your abused little hole

You're so sensitive that you cum when he pushes it in

#eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x you #brooke has thoughts #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve Harrington x plus size reader #steddie x reader

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